


Let It Go

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Honesty, Johnlock - Freeform, Opening Up, Post-Reichenbach, first work ever, not considering season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:32:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this is my first fanfic ever, and I'm not exactly comfortable and sure about it yet but let's just give it a try.<br/>Sherlock has returned, and John is dealing with that, when Feline McKenzie shows up, and opens John's and Sherlock's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting used to reality

It has been two months now, since Sherlock has returned to London, and I still can't quite process it.  
At first I thought I must have gone mad with grief, when I saw him walking towards me in the park. I had gone out for a walk after having visited Mrs. Hudson in Baker street. After the funeral, I tried to see her every now and then. She was just as broken as I was, but I was the only one she showed that to. So when I returned from my memories of my dead best friend, I was rather surprised by seeing him walk up to me in a rush.  
As he reached me, and looked down at me, I said the first thing that came to my mind, which I then realized, was a mistake. 

"Are you real?" 

"Well of course, John. Don't be ridiculous." He sneered and gave me his Oh-Why-Are-People-Just-So-Thick-look.  
And that was the moment, I snapped. When I realized, just what he had done to me. Just then did itt dawn on me, that he'd left me, thinking my best friend had died, that he put me through what was probably the hardest time of my life.  
I looked up into those eyes, that I'd missed so very badly, and the incredulous joy, that had started to appear in my chest, was replaced by pure anger and disappointment in an instant.  
I was so absolutely mad, that I hardly found the strength to say anything coherent. But I do remember asking him furiously how on earth he could let me attend his funeral and just why he had done this to me, and let me think I was the worst friend, one could ever have, when instead, HE was the bastard who'd put me through this. All of that was pretty much squished into one breath together with a lot of swearing and walking back and forth, trying to rearrange my thoughts. When, afterall, I did manage to catch my breath and calm down a bit, I turned to face him, as he stood there, motionles, slowly realizing how much he'd hurt me, and asked the one question that hurt most. It was only a whisper but he certainly heard it.  
"Do I really not mean anything at all to you?"

He looked at me then and when he started to speak his voice had a vunerability about it, that I was entirely unfamilliar with, concerning Sherlock.  
"John. Please, you misunderstood. Or... Well... No you didn't. Not really but please let me explain!"  
And he did. In detail. I was fighting back tears wehn he finished. 

And now... Well now we're back in 221b, ordinary as ever on the surface, but I must admit, that sometimes I do have to look at him twice and double-check that he really is here. That I'm not dreaming after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I know it's quite short, but it's just a little introduction. Bear with me, I've only just started ;) Oh and I'm happy to take any advice. If you have ideas or spot any spelling or grammar mistakes, just tell me; I take any help that I can get :) (and I'm quite a grammar nazi and always get annoyed with spelling mistakes in fanfics myself so I won't be offended )


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on at 221b, and Sherlock is getting back into cases. Feline McKenzie shows up and presents her story.

"Sherlock. I'm making tea, do you want one?" No reply. I take out two mugs anyway and put the kettle on. If he's not answering, then he's probably consumed in some research or experiment, and would not have heard me. He's probably just going to take whatever I force into his hands.  
He is, in fact standing in the living room, staring at some pictures and parts of newspaper articles on the wall. I walk over to him, and as I had expcted, he takes the mug I put into his hand and takes a sip without a word. I stand next to him but I know better than to ask him, what he's doing. He wouldn't answer me anyway. So I just stand there and try to figure it out by myself. Looks like he's looking at the case of a murdered dog down the road. It must look quite funny, us two standing next to each other looking intensely at the wall over the sofa. But I guess most situations involving Sherlock Holmes must look quite weird to anyone not accustomed to him. 

 

After a while, he starts whispering little deductions to himself. A few moments later he seems to have come to a conclusion and shakes his head lightly, before looking at me with an excited spark in his eyes. "It was the brother, John!" he exclaims and types a message to the client, giving her the details. "Alright..." I mumble, as I look at the clues and start to connect tem to see how Sherlock came to his conclusions, but although I understand most of it I still don't quite get everything.   
"But Sherlock.... How do you know it wasn't her husband? He doesn't have an alibi." Sherlock smiles and happily begins to explain. "Well he does have one actually, he just kept it a secret, as he was with his secret lover, which also leads to the conclusion, that, according to his behaviour, he wouldn't have killed the dog in the first place, because he already feels guilty for cheating on his wife. Chewed fingernails, nervous laughter when asked about his marriage and alibi - clearly stressed about his affair; hes probably confessing to his wife while we are speaking.- Surely he wouldn't take her little companion away as well. As he talks, I put the pieces together in my mind as well, and after such a long time, I'm still stunned at how fast he sees all these things.  
I hear somebody ringing the doorbell downstairs. "Gosh," I sigh "The people really seem to have more problems and cases to solve since you've come back."

 

Just like I had thought, Mrs Hudson leads a client into the flat. It is a young woman, at that stage when you can't really tell if they are 16 or 20. Her appearance is... Strong, in a way. A massive bunch of unruly brown curls frame her face in a wild way. Her face, although extraordinary with a bigger nose than other women have, is beautiful in a fascinating way. She gives me a small smile with eyes wide open and looking around as if she wasn't quite sure what to say, but determined to say it. With a small shake of her head, she looks at me again " Dr. Watson, right?" then turns to Sherlock and says: "And Mr. Holmes?" Funny... They normally ask for Sherlock first. I give her a short, hopefully reassuring nod. "My name's Feline McKenzie. I have been told, that you two are good at solving prolems, and I believe, I might have one."

She really does seem to have a problem of some sort. Her posture and speech might indicate confidence at first, but when looking at her more closely, I can see a nervous twitch at her lips and a slight tremeble of her hands, as if she is trying to fight down fear with confidence. I wonder what her case is. Sherlock probably knows already, but I can't tell what kind of problem she would have for us, so I just indicate for her to sit down on a chair while I slump back into mine, and Sherlock positions himself in his favourite spot in front of me. "Well, let's hear it then, Feline McKenzie." Sherlock orders with a curious look. 

 

"Well......" She starts, "I've moved in with that girl, Tris, and we've been flatmates for like... two months now, but I barely even knew her which is weird because I normally get to know people pretty fast but oh well... So she's alright but I barely ever saw her. And well I was quite surprised to find most of her things gone this afternoon and only a note left on the kitchen table saying, she's okay but had to move out and is sorry I'll have to find a new flatmate." With that, she reaches into her pocket and gets out the small note to hand it over to Sherlock, who reads it through and examines it, but is interrupted by Feline. "But this isn't really my problem. She paid her rent for this month and I don't have a problem with her going because as I said, we weren't close. The problem is not what is gone, but what she left in the flat. When I looked into her room, I found her things gone exept for her bedsheets, some books and... A pile of drugs of some kind. I'm not experienced with this and I honestly don't even know what it is, but it looks pretty illegal so I didn't want to tell the police because... You know? Nobody believes the 'A friend left it at mine.'-excuse. Also the bag the stuff has been stored in doesn't look like any of Tris' bags. I really don't know what she was up to and I'm quite worried that she's in more trouble than I'd have ever thought and that now she got me in as well." Sherlock removes his hands from under his chin, and turns to me first and then to Feline. "Interesting! I'll take that one. May I see the flat?" A relieved smile spreads across her face, but she fidgets a bit at the question about the flat. "Thank you. Yeah sure you can see it, although I'm not particularly keen on getting back in there." I look at her and as much as she is in fact not a child anymore, her face shows a bit of the childlike vulnerability she still has about her at the thought of getting back into a flat that contains secrets and troubles she fails to handle on her own. I get up and give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, as I head for the door.


End file.
